


Oh, am I talking too loud?

by FireMorning



Series: Hamilton/In the Heights Crossover Verse [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda, In the Heights - Miranda
Genre: Gen, crossover AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 12:57:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6567259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireMorning/pseuds/FireMorning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sonny gets the offer of a life time and starts up his career in DC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh, am I talking too loud?

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is an AU that I've made a few friends suffer with hearing me yell about for a while and I have decided to finally put it down on paper! Or, computer. A basic summery of the AU is that Sonny moves to DC to become a politician to help change the world, and his first step is being Hamilton's PA. There's a couple of instances that I have thought out of the AU, and I welcome any ideas that anyone else has!

Sonny would suppose it started in a meeting with his school guidance counselor. It wasn’t so much that he was inspired by some great speach given by the counselor, or even a nudge in the right direction. In fact, he’s come to think of it as being in-spite-ered. Not to say he only got into the business because of the spite, but it was a good 10% of his motivation.

He had always been interested in politics. Well, maybe not politics exactly. He was interested in helping people in the barrio, to right the wrongs that he had seen done every day growing up. Now, since ‘superhero’ wasn’t a very good job option, and neither was ‘Robin Hood’, he had to find a different course of action. Lawyer might’ve been alright, but after asking Nina a bit about it he decided against that. He turned his attention to politics after a few days worth of public library research. Which is what brought him, on his senior year, to the guidance counselor to have a chat about where he saw himself going after high school.

_“So, Sonny!” The overly cheery lady said, smiling and looking down at a file on her desk. “Good grades, mostly clean record, could do with a bit of touching up on extra curricular activities and sports, but over all a good record to get into any of the local colleges around here!”_

_Sonny frowned, looking up from where he had been staring down at his lap. “I’m actually not planning on staying in New York, ma’am. I want to move to D.C., to get into politics.” As he spoke, a smile broke out on his face. He always got this feeling of purpose when he thought about how he could change the world someday, once he made it down to D.C. and learned the ropes. He hadn’t told anyone but Pete his plan though, he needed to have more of an idea of what he was going to do before that._

_The woman’s laugh hurt him as bad as if she had taken the heavy paperweight on the desk and hit him with it. It wasn’t a short laugh either, or light. It took a couple of minutes for her to calm herself enough to talk, and even then she was red in the face with watering eyes._

_“Now Sonny, don’t you think that’s a bit ambitious? People from this neighborhood, especially those who aren’t exceptional in some way, don’t make it into politics. As nice as it is to see an ambitious young man in my office, I think that we should discuss something a bit more...plausible?” The woman was still smiling at him, though not the cheerful one that he was given before. He could only describe this smile as condescending, as if he was some little kid that said he wanted to be a superhero when he grew up. The smile was in no way returned by him._

_“I don’t think that my goals are ambitious, actually. I’m not aiming any lower than what I’ve set myself to.” Sonny had to fight to keep himself composed, though an anger that was quickly turning into a red hot rage was building up in his chest, and the best way to get it out at the moment seemed like it would be screaming a nice ‘fuck you’ to the woman and walking out. However, that wasn’t the way he could conduct himself when trying to prove a point like this._

_“I am going to D.C., I am going to get into politics, and I am going to prove you wrong. Now, if there’s nothing else that you can help me with, I am going to be getting back to class now.” And with that, he stood up and grabbed his bag off the floor, walking out of the office and closing the door with a small, satisfying slam._

Sonny would only tell the fake interviews that he did in his head on the subway to and from places in the city that he made a life choice as big as his career after high school based off one, shitty interaction with some guidance counselor that didn’t know what she was talking about. He isn’t dumb, and it isn’t true. It’s not just the 10% of spite that motivated him to get to where he was currently standing.

It was 70% his want to change the world, that he wanted to help people like him and places like the heights. Plus, maybe if there were more people like him, young people from ‘sketchy’ neighborhoods that were told all their lives that they weren’t going to amount to anything more than a local college degree, there would already be people that had the mind to change things in politics. But, he was going into this with a ‘if no one else is going to do it’ mindset. At least, until other people did start to do it.

Of course, the last 20% was something a bit more personal. A few days before she passed, Abuela Claudia had stopped him in his rush out the door with a simple call of his name. He remembered having a bit of an attitude in his head about it, but he went to her regardless. Abuela had taken his hand and smiled at him, she had told him that he was growing up so much that no one would believe that just a few years ago he was scared to do anything besides hide behind his cousin’s legs. At that he smiled, being fully aware that he was a shy child. Abuela made him promise that he would do something amazing with his life, since he had so much potential. He hadn’t thought a single thing about it until a few weeks after everything. The blackout, Usnavi nearly leaving all of them, and, of course, Abuela Claudia passing on. He took his portion of the money and saved it away then, kept working and working until he was graduated in the top 5 of his class.

The money was more than enough to secure an apartment and enough to live off of until he got a stable job and up on his feet in D.C.. He then took a couple hundred to buy some nice clothes, things that he could mix and match to give the impression of having a whole new outfit with just combining new things. A bit more for some thrift shop furniture that he could have what he called a ‘minimalist’ design for his house, and he was ready to settle down in D.C.

Adjusting had been….an experience, for sure. Washington DC was a whole different society than the one he grew up in Washington Heights. No matter how he tried to comfort himself on the ride down there, the similar names didn’t mean that they were anywhere close to the same. For example, back home he could speak his opinions without fear of not being accepted or even being argued with for what he was saying. Most people would even nod along, if not add something to his tangents. 

Things were...not the same in DC.

He supposed he was lucky to get a job inside the White House to begin with. Even if that job was the assistant to an intern of an intern to a low ranking worker. It still payed somewhat (even though he was going to start looking for a second job soon, if he could) and it was better than nothing, but it still wasn’t great. He consoled himself with the thought that everyone is at the bottom of the latter at some point and that, with time, he would soon be at the top.

Except, not everyone did start at the bottom. Even among the other interns there was talk of who was the child of who, who’s parents had been involved in a scandal, who had been in the same room as some senator. And then of course, eyes would turn to him. The kid who didn’t have rich parents and wasn’t the president of ever club at school. The kid that came from some ‘hood’ part of New York and acted like it from time to time. He was an outcast and below the ones at the bottom to begin with.

Because of some of that discord among his fellow interns, it led to some...passionate arguments. Such as right now. A group of them in a smaller room off some smaller hallway that some higher interns wouldn’t have to come through for any reason. It was also, among interns, known as The Screaming Hallway. Which, is probably why Sonny was currently right on the line between loudly talking and yelling.

“And another thing on your blatantly _wrong_ comment on the wage gap! If you would take your head out of your ass for for more than a few seconds at a time and actually look something up, you would see that there is factual proof that it exists! And not only does it exist, but it gets worse the more that you go into it! Women of color make even less than white men! Of course, you wouldn’t fucking know that, would you? No, you’re too busy doing whatever the fuck you do with all the nice money that your mother and father give you to waste on the weekly! You’re one of the densest motherfuckers that I’ve ever talked to! And I come from New York!” Sonny had more to add to his argument, he wasn’t anywhere near done with this son of a bitch. But he noticed everyone had suddenly gotten the ‘the teacher has come back into the room’ look. So, expecting one of the older interns or supervisors, he turned around and crossed his arms over his chest, trying to calm himself down enough to say sorry for whatever would’ve been his perceived wrong.

Now, living in America and planning on going into politics is enough to have him memorize the entirety of both the senate and house of representatives. Of course, he hadn’t. He didn’t have that kind of time. But, he didn’t think that he was so high and mighty walking into the White House without knowing a few things. Things like knowing the president’s right hand man and secretary of treasury. Besides, he would’ve done research on the secretary of treasury regardless. Someone that had come from his situation, going from poverty to controlling the nation’s bank, is a bit of a role model for him. 

Which is even more of a reason that he felt as if he had completely ruined his chances of being anything when he turned to see some kind of look on Alexander Hamilton’s face.

Thinking back on it, he shouldn’t have been so worried. Alexander Hamilton was pretty well known for being loud and argumentative. In fact, most of the news about the secretary of treasury were Buzzfeed articles about ‘20 times Alexander Hamilton dragged people on twitter’. Not that Sonny had a lot of reason to be reading that kind of shit, but he also happened to sometimes have very, very long and boring hours at the bodega with nothing to do except scroll through articles on his phone. Really, if Hamilton had done anything to reprimand him for the yelling, he probably could have argued something about hypocrisy. Which probably would’ve lost him his job and any chance he had in politics, but it would still be true. None of that was on his mind as he stared at the secretary of treasury with a no doubt dumb look on his face, though.

“You. Follow me.” Hamilton commanded, though not unkindly. Simply an order for him to follow. And follow he did. Not without a glare shot over his shoulder when he heard a soft ‘ooo’ from one of the boys he was arguing with. If he didn’t already think he was in hot water, he would have snapped out a comment about not being aware that they were a group of 3rd graders instead of interns in the White House.

There wasn’t much conversation between the two of them as they walked. Sonny wasn’t sure what he would even say. Anything that came to mind sounded so horribly boot licker-ish that he wanted to kick his own ass just for thinking them up. He found that sometimes, very rarely, that silence was the best option when he got into trouble instead of attempting to talk his way out, or at least talk himself into a five second head start. He had to remind himself then that this wasn’t the heights, that he was in the White House and that he should be acting like a properly poised young man. Not someone about to get their ass kicked. So, straightening up his posture and walking with his shoulders squared and head held high, he walked.

And walked.

And walked until they were far away from the small hallways that interns frequented. These were the offices of the big players. He shouldn’t have been so surprised. He was walking with the treasury secretary, after all. He would later roll his eyes at how stupid he could be under pressure like this. What did he think? That Alexander Hamilton, secretary of treasury, would take him to some backwoods office to talk?

Once they had gotten into a large office and the door shut, he sat down in one of the chairs that Hamilton gestured to. He sat up straight and reminded himself not to squirm, went over mentally about his rules of how he should and shouldn’t talk, and how he was planning on explaining himself for shouting about his feelings towards certain coworkers where people could hear. None of that ended up helping though, since he was so shocked by what Hamilton did.

“Jesus _Christ_ kid. You were really giving them hell back there, weren’t you? Your arguments could you a bit of work, but you had your points down back there. I thought you were about to start pulling graphs out of your bag.” Hamilton shook his head and sat down, looking at Sonny with an odd sort of curiosity, as if studying a piece of art or poetry that he couldn’t quite understand. Before the treasury secretary could say a thing, however, Sonny started talking.

“I’m sorry, was I talking too loud back there? I just get really hyped up sometimes and I’m not used to keeping quiet? And I’m not really used to having to listen to such bullshit from some people. The idiots back there really thought that there was no wage gap? How can they be going into politics without actually knowing what they are talking about? It’s insane! I’ve heard children give better arguments than them! One of them literally said ‘because my dad told me so’. Like, is this high school? And-” Sonny stopped when he realizes that Hamilton was...laughing at him. A sharp stab of fear and anger and regret coursed through him. As well as a feeling of familiarity. People back home saying that he couldn’t make it, that he was just a kid that was reaching too high. Maybe Hamilton really wasn’t better. The confident and passionate glow in his eyes died down and he slumped back in the chair.

Seeming to notice the change in attitude, Hamilton got a hold of himself. “No! I wasn’t laughing because I thought you were dumb. I was laughing because you’re right. I’ve gone through so many people that have no idea what they’re talking about when it comes to things like that. Trust me, I wasn’t laughing at you because of what you were saying.” Hamilton smiled still. “So, kid, where are you from? You don’t sound too high end, which is rare around here.” 

“Washington Heights, up in New York City. Born and raised there.” He then made a little face. “And, my name is Sonny. I’m 19, not a kid.” 

“Ah, of course.” Hamilton said, nodding and looking at Sonny in that odd, inspecting way once again. “I think that you’ll do perfect. You’ve got strong arguments and convictions, even if you need a little polishing. You seem quick and ambitious enough, and you will be able to help. BUt, one last question. Can you make coffee?”

“Yeah! I grew up learning how to make the best coffee in the heights from my cousin!” Sonny perked up, happy about thinking about one of his skills. He was leaning forward, his hands on his knees as he grinned. But, then he hit a bit of a wall. “Wait, perfect for what?”

Hamilton’s face lit up in realization, and he shook his head, seeming exasperated in his own forgetfulness. “Well, to be my personal assistant! You’re a bright boy, it’ll show you the ropes, you’ll get connections, and I’ll have an assistant that isn’t scared when get heated in an argument. Plus, if you’ve made it here from the heights, you deserve this opportunity more than a lot of other interns in that room with you do.”

Sonny couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Alexander Hamilton, the secretary of treasury, wanted _him_ for an assistant. He couldn’t see why someone like Hamilton would want some kid from the heights, but he tried to shake those thoughts out of his head. No, he deserved this. He had been working for this for years, and he wasn’t about to mess anything up by being pessimistic or by trying to look a gift horse in the mouth. That’s not how he was raised.

“Thank you so much! I promise, I won’t mess this up. I don’t really know a lot about the job but I’ll learn as soon as I can!” Sonny found himself with a stupid grin on his face as he stood up, reaching out to shake Hamilton’s hand like he had seen people do on television when they closed a business deal or something.

“Of course, there’s still a bit of paperwork to do, some background checks and a few hours of various training, but you’re gonna do great kid.” Hamilton said, shaking his hand and smiling. He walked Sonny to the door of the office, planning on showing him around the ‘fancy parts’ of the White House that he would now be working in. As he slowly opened the door to the office, he felt as if he was stepping into a brand new life.

**Author's Note:**

> So, there's the first installment! I'll be updating this series as I get time, but as finals start kicking my ass updates might be slow. I'll try my best though!


End file.
